Necrosis
by sarcrow13
Summary: Gwyn Reeds is just your average, everyday African American living in the 21st century - that is, until she meets the Doctor. The Doctor knows Gwyn, not just as Gwyn, but as Tasha, Reinette Poisson, Jean Redfern, River Song, and many others. You see, Gwyn has lived thousands of lives; she is scattered all throughout time, because of a single event that happened when she was young.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

First person POV

"No one has ever heard the wind blow like this before," I muttered under my breath, grabbing my bag and shouldering it.

"No kidding," Joseph said, grinning at me. "I've never heard it be so ferocious. Oh, hey, Gwyn?"

I turned back to face my overly-friendly coworker. "Yeah, Joe?"

Joseph looked very uncomfortable as he sort of squirmed in place. "Um, well, would you be willing to, uh, go out with me to, uh, get drinks or, um, something?" he asked awkwardly, and I giggled.

"Of course, silly!" I exclaimed, smiling at him warmly. "We can hang out together as friends."

Joseph looked disappointed, but he nodded. "Yeah, of course. Friends, ha-ha, that's it."

I waved good-bye to him and then proceeded to walk out of the door, lifting my umbrella above my head and opening it. I knew of Joseph's feelings for me; I just didn't return them, so I played the "dumb" card every time he got up the courage to ask me out. I suppose that it was mean of me, but I really didn't know anything else to do, you know? I just wasn't into him like that, and you know, when your heart makes up its mind, there's no changing it.

I sighed as the wind tugged forcefully on the blue umbrella in my hand, threatening to tug it free, and I pulled the umbrella down out of the wind's mischievous fingers, closing it. The rain pelted against me, and I groaned, pulling my jacket closer about myself in a most likely pointless effort to keep myself warm.

Suddenly, there was a brown trench coat wrapped around me, a man standing next to me with his arm wrapped around my shoulders loosely. "You warm enough, Gwyn?" the man asked, looking down at me.

"Sorry, do I know you?" I asked rudely, but somehow finding myself enchanted by the warmth in his brown eyes.

The man just grinned at me. "Not yet, you don't," he replied, pulling me tighter into himself. "But are you warm enough yet?"

"Yeah, I s'ppose," I muttered, subjecting myself to the uncomfortableness of the situation.

But I seemed to be the only one who was uncomfortable; the man was seemingly completely comfortable as he walked with his arm draped over my shoulders like a scarf that you just couldn't get rid of. Eventually, I couldn't help but relax into the man's somehow so familiar grip. Once I had all but melted into him, the man grinned down at me.

"Oh, Gwyn Reeds," he murmured, stroking my cheek with the back of his hand. "My Gwyn Reeds."

Alarm spiked in my heart, but I couldn't move; it was like I was paralyzed. I slumped down, and the man caught me neatly, scooping me up into his arms like I was naught but a child. He carried me in the opposite direction of my house, and I beat my fists against his chest weakly.

"Where are you taking me!?" I demanded pathetically, unable to do anything.

"To the TARDIS," the man replied, smiling down at me. "Oh, you don't know my name, do you?"

I shook my head, and the man leaned forward, stopping in his tracks.

"My name is the Doctor."

My eyes widened, and a pain spiked in my head. My body wasn't able to cope with the utter agony, and I fell limply into the man's arms. His smile faded, and what looked like a tear slid down his cheek.

"My . . ." he murmured, his face blurring in and out of my sight and his voice fading in and out.

All too soon, I blacked out.

I woke up in a bed covered with silk sheets in the color of red velvet, and I sat up. "What? How did I end up here?" I muttered, looking around the room. My jaw dropped when I realized this was my dream room; the bed was a princess' bed with the red silk canopy and everything, the walls were painted crimson with blue roses curling in and out of what appeared to be Celtic knots, the floor was Amazon rainforest redwood wood and was covered by a violet red rug spread out partially under the bed I was laying in.

There was a knock on the door, which was painted red velvet red to match the rest of my room, and I whirled around to face it, having been examining my room earlier. "Come in!" I called, forgetting that I had most likely been kidnapped – well, kidnappers didn't treat their prisoners so kindly by creating them their dream rooms. My eyes widened; how did 'the Doctor' know what my dream room was, anyway?

The man, the one who had called himself the Doctor, poked his head inside the room, a brilliant grin stretching across his features when he saw I was awake. "Gwyn!" he exclaimed happily, stepping inside the room.

"Where am I?" I asked, the words coming out harsher than I meant them to be, I realized as I watched the man flinch.

"Well, you're inside the TARDIS," he said, and I tilted my head.

"What's that?" I asked innocently, blinking at him.

"It's my ship," the Doctor replied, seeming to become happier now that I wasn't snapping at him anymore; I made a mental note of that – I didn't want to upset him, especially when he seemed to be the only person who really, really cared about me.

"Are you an alien?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

"Yes," he replied cautiously, looking afraid of my reaction, but I just blinked.

"Oh, that's so cool!" I exclaimed after a few seconds, and the man laughed raucously.

"Of course you would say that," the Doctor muttered, smiling at me as he wiped some tears out of his brilliant, brown eyes.

I pouted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

His brown eyes widened. "Uh, nothing," he said too quickly, but I shrugged it off; his secrets were his secrets, not mine.

"Well, I've got to leave – I've got someplace to be. Uh, unless you want to come with me," he offered hesitantly, and I nodded eagerly.

"Oh, yes please!" I exclaimed. "I would love that!"

"Brilliant!" the Doctor exclaimed, rushing forwards and grabbing my hand. He dragged me out of the bed and into the main room, which was so huge I needed a moment to admire the magnificent beauty. He dropped my hand and took a few steps backwards, only for me to gravitate after him.

"Do you want to see something?" he asked me, grinning mischievously at me.

"Absolutely!" I shouted, bouncing up and down in place.

The Doctor offered me his hand, and I raced forwards to grab it. He pulled me along with him, swinging the small, double doors open. I stepped out, surprised to find myself just in a normal neighborhood. I turned. "What is it that you wanted to show me?"

The Doctor was standing in the door of a police public call box.

My eyes widened, and I squealed loudly. "Oh, my God! Your ship is a police public call box! That's so amazing!"

The Doctor chuckled at my childish behavior. "Yes, my ship's form is in the form of a public call box. Aren't you going to say 'it's bigger on the inside'?"

I blinked at him. "But isn't that pretty obvious?" I asked, and the Doctor laughed. Hard.

"You see, this is why I keep you around," he said, and I pouted.

"Because I point out the obvious? That's all?"

"No, of course not!" the Doctor was quick to add, seemingly shocked that I would ask such a question. "It's because I –"

But he cut himself off, giving me a strange look, his eyes wide. "Never mind," he finally choked out, sounding as if he was doing nothing more than choking on air, and I chuckled.

"Fine, don't tell me," I said, grinning at him. "I don't mind."

The Doctor shot me a grateful look, and I smiled back at him. "Well, are you coming or not?" he asked after a few moments, holding the door open for me, and I raced inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_**Third person POV **_

Martha's phone rang, interrupting her music, and she lifted it up to her ear. "You're up early. What's happening?"

"It's a nightmare, because Dad won't listen, and I'm telling you, Mum is going mental. Swear to God, Martha, this is epic. You've got to get in there and stop him," Tish replied, sounding annoyed.

"How do I do that?" Martha asked, frowning.

"Tell him he can't bring her," Tish insisted.

Martha's phone beeped, signaling a new call. "Hold on, that's Leo. I'll call you back."

"Martha, If Mum and Dad start to kick off, tell them I don't even want a party. I didn't even ask for one. They can always give me the money instead," Leo said, a smirk dancing in his voice.

"Yeah, but why do I have to tell them? Why can't you?" Martha's phone beeped again, again signaling another new call. "Hold on, that's Mum. I'll call you back."

"I don't mind your father making a fool of himself in private, but this is Leo's 21st, everyone is going to be there, and the entire family is going to look ridiculous," Francine said, a sneer leaking into her voice.

"Mum, it's a party. I can't stop Dad from bringing his girlfriend," Martha said, only to have her phone beep again. "Hold on, that's Dad, I'll call you back."

"Martha? Now, tell your mother, Leo is my son, and I'm paying for half that party. I'm entitled to bring who I like," Clive instructed.

"I know, but think what it's going to look like for Mum, if you're standing there with Annalise," Martha pointed out.

"What's wrong with Annalise?" Clive asked, a sneer saturating his voice, the same as his ex-wife.

Another voice joined Clive's, Annalise's; a bit too bright, though. "Is that Martha? Say hi. Hi, Martha, hi!"

"Hi, Annalise," Martha said, her tone saturated with fake happiness.

"Big kiss, lots of love, see you at the party, babe." Annalise leaned away from the phone, demonstrated by her suddenly quieter, yet still ridiculously bright, voice. "Now, take me shopping, big boy."

Martha rolled her eyes and snapped her phone shut.

The Doctor walked up to her at random, a girl at his side. "Like so," he said before yanking his tie off.

"See?" the girl said with a grin.

The two ran off, disappearing into the crowd. Martha blinked in surprise, but shrugged it off. She began to walk into the hospital where she worked, only to have a man clad in leather with a motorcycle helmet over his head shove past her.

"Oi! Watch it, mate," Martha snapped, anger flashing in her eyes.

The man turned around to look at her, but turned back and walked into the hospital. Martha shrugged and followed.

Once inside and at her locker, she pulled her coat off and slipped on her lab coat. She went to close her locker, only to be shocked by static electricity. She jerked her hand away, and tapped the metal cautiously. When she wasn't shocked, she closed the locker with a slight shrug.

"I was all right till this morning, and then, I don't know, I woke up and I felt all dizzy again. It was worse than when I came in," Florence said.

"Pulse is slightly thready. Well, let's see what Britain's finest might suggest. Any ideas, Morgenstern?" Mr. Stoker turned to the nervous, fidgeting young man.

"Dizziness can be a sign of early onset diabetes," Morgenstern suggested hesitantly.

"Hardly early onset, if you'll forgive me, Miss Finnegan," Mr. Stoker said with a slight sneer. "Any more ideas? Swales?" He turned to a young woman.

"Er, could recommend a CT scan," Swales said, blinking.

"And spend all our money?" Mr. Stoker asked incredulously, sneering at the thought. "Jones?"

"We could take bloods and check for Meniere's disease," Martha suggested calmly.

"Or we could simply ask the patient." Mr. Stoker sneered, turning to Florence. "What did you have for dinner last night?"

"I had salad," Florence replied, blinking innocently.

"And the night before?" Mr. Stoker continued in a patronizing way.

"Salad again," Florence shot back, seeming to be feeling a bit threatened by Mr. Stoker's cruel tone.

"And salad every night for the past week, contrary to my instructions," Mr. Stoker said in a lord-y tone. "Salt deficiency, that's all. Simple, honest salt."

"Hippocrates himself expounded on the virtues of salt. Recommended the inhalation of steam from sea water," Mr. Stoker said, leading his students to another ward.

"Though no doubt if he'd been afflicted with my students, results might have been rather more colorful."

They all walked past the lifts, Martha rolling her eyes, and two men clad in leather with motorcycle helmets on walked out of the lifts. Martha looked at them oddly, but continued to follow her colleagues.

Mr. Stoker pulled the curtain back from a bed, revealing the Doctor, with Gwyn sitting next to him, her long black hair pulled back into a braid. "Now then, Mr. Smith, a very good morning to you. How are you today?"

"Oh, not so bad. Still a bit, you know, blah," the Doctor remarked, rambling a bit.

"John Smith, admitted yesterday with severe abdominal pains, being visited by his wife, Gwyn Smith," Mr. Stoker informed his students before turning to Martha. "Jones, why don't you see what you can find? Amaze me."

Martha walked around the Doctor's bed with a stethoscope in hand after smiling at Gwyn. "That wasn't very clever, running around outside, was it?" she remarked.

"Sorry?" the Doctor asked her, frowning.

"On Chancellor Street this morning? You came up to me and took your tie off. Your wife was there, too, next to you," Martha replied, freezing in her place.

"Really? What did I do that for?" the Doctor asked, scrunching his face up with confusion.

"I don't know, you just did," Martha shot back, sounding frustrated he would ask her.

"Not me. I was here, in bed. Ask the nurses, ask my wife," the Doctor said, leaning back on the pillows.

"Well, that's weird, 'cause it looked like you. Have you got a brother?" Martha suggested, trying to explain the odd phenomenon.

"No, not any more. Just me," the Doctor said, suddenly growing sad, and Gwyn patted his hand, knowing better than to ask.

"As time passes and I grow ever more infirm and weary, Miss Jones," Mr. Stoker said with a sneer.

"Sorry. Right," Martha said like a child who had been caught with their hand in a cookie jar, checking the Doctor's heartbeat.

When she heard the Doctor's second heart beating, she frowned. She checked that one as well, and the Doctor gave her a wink, Gwyn smiling warmly at her.

"I weep for future generations. Are you having trouble locating the heart, Miss Jones?" Mr. Stoker stood there, his sneer growing in size.

The Doctor seemed to roll his eyes, and Gwyn shot the snotty man a fierce glare.

"Er, I don't know. Stomach cramps?" Martha suggested hesitantly, a bit taken aback by her discovery.

"That is a symptom, not a diagnosis," Mr. Stoker said patronizingly. "And you rather failed basic techniques by not consulting first with the patient's chart."

Mr. Stoker went to pick up the Doctor's chart, only to have it shock him. He dropped it on the bed.

"That happened to me this morning," Martha said.

"I had the same thing on the door handle," Morgenstern said, frowning.

"And me, on the lift," Swales added.

"That's only to be expected. There's a thunderstorm moving in and lightning is a form of static electricity, as was first proven by . . . Anyone?" Mr. Stoker asked, looking around.

"Benjamin Franklin," the Doctor and Gwyn said with identical, giant grins.

"Correct," Mr. Stoker said, a bit surprised the Doctor and Gwyn had chosen to answer.

"My mate, Ben. That was a day and a half. I got rope burns off that kite, and then I got soaked," the Doctor rambled.

"Quite," Mr. Stoker said, confused as to what the Doctor was talking about.

"And then I got electrocuted," the Doctor finished with a huge grin, shooting glances at Gwyn when he thought she wasn't paying attention to him.

"Moving on." Mr. Stoker walked off, whispering to one of the students, "I think perhaps a visit from psychiatric."

When he spoke again, his voice was at a normal volume. "And next we have . . ."

Martha and the Doctor exchanged grins before she had left, Gwyn grinning at the two for an equal amount of time.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

First person POV

"This is going to be so boring," I muttered, cupping my chin in my palm as I sat in the seat the TARDIS had created for me as the Doctor piloted us to London.

He shot me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Gwyn, but I need to check this out," he said, smiling at me slightly. "It's really important."

"You always say that," I mumbled, and the Doctor's eyes widened.

"What?"

I looked up, my eyes meeting his. "What is it?"

"You just said, 'You always say that'," the Doctor said, and I cocked an eyebrow.

"Really?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "I don't remember that."

The Doctor pouted, turning back to the TARDIs console. "Never mind," he muttered, and I looked down; I didn't want to upset him, but I obviously had, somehow.

The TARDIS landed with a bang, and I shot out of my seat, rushing to the doors. "I get to open it this time, mister!" I said, shoving my finger in the Doctor's face. "You got to open it last time; it's my turn!"

He raised his hands above his head in absolute surrender, and I smirked at him triumphantly, yanking the doors open to find myself in an alley.

"Wonderful," I muttered. "You parked us in the slums of London."

The Doctor just nudged my shoulder gently, bending down to my level and pointing at a building up ahead. "See that?" he asked, smiling down at me warmly. "That's the hospital. You see? We're not in the slums."

"We're still in the slums," I told him, rolling my eyes. "We're just in a part of the slums that's better than the others."

The Doctor chuckled. "If that's the way you look at it, then all of London is the slums," he remarked, and I giggled as he offered me his arm.

"Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the hospital in search of the reason for the plasma coils?" he asked me, and I nodded, still giggling.

"I believe I shall," I remarked, and I took his arm, walking off and dragging him along.

What I did not notice was the fond grin that danced on the Doctor's lips as I did so. If I did, I might have noticed that there was more to our relationship than it seemed.

The doctor, not my Doctor, another doctor pushed the curtains around the Doctor's bed back, revealing a large group surrounding us.

"Now then, Mr. Smith, a very good morning to you. How are you today?" the man asked, so politely ignoring me.

"Oh, not so bad. Still a bit, you know, blah," the Doctor remarked, rambling a bit, and I smiled fondly at him.

"John Smith, admitted yesterday with severe abdominal pains, being visited by his wife, Gwyn Smith," the man informed his students before turning to the black woman – the only black woman in the group. "Jones, why don't you see what you can find? Amaze me."

Jones walked around the Doctor's bed with a stethoscope in hand after smiling at me, and I smiled back at her warmly. "That wasn't very clever, running around outside, was it?" she remarked.

"Sorry?" the Doctor asked her, frowning.

"On Chancellor Street this morning? You came up to me and took your tie off and put it on your wife. Your wife was there, too, next to you," Jones replied, freezing in her place.

"Really? What did I do that for?" the Doctor asked, scrunching his face up with confusion, and I tilted my head to the side; I knew for a fact we hadn't done such a thing, but the black woman didn't sound like she was lying to us, so what was it that she had seen?

"I don't know, you just did," Jones shot back, sounding frustrated he would ask her.

"Not me. I was here, in bed. Ask the nurses, ask my wife," the Doctor said, leaning back on the pillows and grabbing my hand.

"Well, that's weird, 'cause it looked like you. Have you got a brother?" she suggested, trying to explain the odd phenomenon.

"No, not any more. Just me," the Doctor said, suddenly growing sad, and I patted his hand, knowing better than to ask.

"As time passes and I grow ever more infirm and weary, Miss Jones," the man from earlier said with a sneer.

"Sorry. Right," Jones said like a child who had been caught with their hand in a cookie jar, checking the Doctor's heartbeat.

When she heard the Doctor's second heart beating, she frowned. She checked that one as well, and the Doctor gave her a wink and I was smiling warmly at her.

"I weep for future generations. Are you having trouble locating the heart, Miss Jones?" The man stood there, his sneer growing in size.

The Doctor seemed to roll his eyes, and I shot the snotty man a fierce glare, becoming fed up with 'I-am-better-than-thou attitude'.

"Er, I don't know. Stomach cramps?" Jones suggested hesitantly, a bit taken aback by her discovery.

"That is a symptom, not a diagnosis," the man said patronizingly. "And you rather failed basic techniques by not consulting first with the patient's chart."

He went to pick up the Doctor's chart, only to have it shock him. He dropped it on the bed.

"That happened to me this morning," Jones said.

"I had the same thing on the door handle," a boy said, frowning.

"And me, on the lift," another woman added.

"That's only to be expected. There's a thunderstorm moving in and lightning is a form of static electricity, as was first proven by . . . Anyone?" the man asked, looking around.

"Benjamin Franklin," the Doctor and I said with identical, giant grins.

"Correct," the man said, a bit surprised the Doctor and I had chosen to answer.

"My mate, Ben. That was a day and a half. I got rope burns off that kite, and then I got soaked," the Doctor rambled, and I tilted my head to the side, mentally asking the Doctor what he was talking about.

"Quite," the man said, confused as to what the Doctor was talking about.

"And then I got electrocuted," the Doctor finished with a huge grin, shooting glances at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention to him.

"Moving on." The man walked off, whispering to one of the students, "I think perhaps a visit from psychiatric."

When he spoke again, his voice was at a normal volume. "And next we have . . ."

Martha and the Doctor exchanged grins before she had left, leaving me to grin at them both for an equal amount of time.


End file.
